


when i was a buck.

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Backstory, Child Abandonment, Childhood Trauma, Hurt No Comfort, especially as a RAM hybrid, every fic is like jschlatt being evil for ther sake of being evil and im liek Ok., i know its just Block Men but i wanted to explore schlatts backstory so here we Are, idk waht to tag this as., like have none of you ever thought about how rough it mustve been growing up as a hybrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It felt like a lot of his childhood had been spent crying, to himself and the woods.or; a look into a possible schlatt backstory
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 87





	when i was a buck.

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm stay away from this if you ship schlatt with anybody. Thanks :D
> 
> I just wanted to explore a schlatt backstory cause i figure well. Its block men sure but hes gotta have had SOME kind of hardship. So i decided to fucking Give Him ONe. Uhhhhhhhh yeah i kind of in my head tend to imagine schlatt as like. Ram hybrid. So hes got the horns aand maybe hooves 4 feet or something but instead of a little goat tail he has a forked tail. It just completes The Look. And everything else is human. Ummm yeah <3 I hope this does not flop cause i liked writing it a lot

It's honestly kind of funny how most people believe Schlatt hadn't had it tough at some point, too. As if he had always been the bad guy, the villain, the top of the food chain, watching the lower animals squabble disinterestedly. Hell, he had been an outcast for most of his 'upbringing'. He had never been a predator to begin with. The tiniest noises made him sit upright, and the slightest hints of movement sent him ducking for cover in the nearest hiding spot.

He had forged his way through all of that. **Alone.** Abandoned at fucking birth. Rejected by pretty much every village- they saw him as the son of the devil, with ram horns and a forked tail. He had never asked to be born like that.

But, he had climbed his way up the metaphorical pile of people desperate to be at the top, and reached it himself. Slowly, albeit, with too many blunders, and too much pain. Far too much pain. The pay-off, admittedly, was less satisfying than he'd expected, but it had actually felt pretty good to be seen as the apex predator.

He was well aware, however, that he was much too jumpy, much too vigilant. Much too alert. Easily alarmed. Blame it on the instincts. He's just a helpless prey animal, after all!

Quackity had admitted one day that he was afraid of Schlatt.

Schlatt took it as a compliment. A very, very big compliment.

* * *

He remembers being small. So, so small, only a kid- a buck, he should say. 

He had never known his mother or father. The words themselves were foreign to him. But he had overheard them, from hiding in between village houses. He had seen women holding the hands of children, men playing catch with littler humans.

Schlatt had wondered then, was that what his life was meant to be like? A woman and a man who looked after him? Instead of hiding in the overgrowth of the forests, pressing himself up against cave walls to hide from monsters, was he meant to be living in these villages? Was he meant to be loved? Would that have been his life, were he not born exactly as monstrous as the things in the depths of the caves? Was he so outlandish, so horrifying, that both sides of the coin hated him equally passionately?

It had been a lot to wrap his head around.

That night, he had looked to the stars and cried, wondering if he was ever really meant to have someone to stare up at them with. Or, maybe, he was destined to be isolated from the start.

It felt like a lot of his childhood had been spent crying.

As a teenager, he had been around long enough to know when librarians stopped tending to their stores. When chefs finally left the cafeterias, to go home to their families, and all in the village was still. For some reason, they still left the doors unlocked, despite reports of theft. Maybe they thought it was a human child. Maybe, in their hearts, they had more pity for their own kind, than those who didn't even have that sense of belonging. An abandoned human kid was, at the end of the day, a human kid, but Schlatt was just Schlatt. The anti-Christ. The son of evil. That was what he had been told.

He had taught himself how to read.

And in the books he would swipe from the closed stores, he would read about teenage humans who were angry. Rebellious. Moody. In all honesty, Schlatt didn't understand it. Maybe it was because he had resigned himself to the way the world worked years ago. Maybe, if he had understood the meaning of rebellion at a younger age, he would've been angry. Angry at the world for pushing him out. Angry at the world for wanting to stifle his very existence, as if he weren't living and breathing the same air as them. As if he were the product of evil, and all things meant to unravel mankind.

He just felt tired.

But as the times changed, so did people's opinions. It still wasn't exactly safe to be what Schlatt was, but at least things were getting easier. Apparently, some highly-regarded king had found a soft spot for mutants like him. Some kind of battle-ready child prodigy straight from the Nether. It sounded like bullshit to him, a poorly-cobbled excuse, but if it meant being less afraid of... _everything,_ he'd accept bullshit.

He had gained his fondness for suits in his late teenage years, spent under the public's watchful eye. Of course, somebody like him had to present themself civilly. Somebody like him had to seem well-put together, or else they were just another savage looking for a town to tear to the ground. Besides, he liked how they made people stare just a little more respectfully- Schlatt had long since realized he could never escape stares.

* * *

In all honesty, he still didn't quite understand human customs, even in his adult years. Power, however, was something he understood very well- for some reason, people were inclined to believe every word that came from his mouth. Quackity had called him cunning. Wilbur had called him manipulative.

Schlatt thought of it as a good way to make sure he stayed on top.

He still remained too jumpy. Too alert. Though he was older, and in considerably less danger, the habit of being on guard was far too stubborn to break easily. But he was **confident** he would not allow one more child to grow up feeling as he had- feeling as if all they had was themself. As if all they needed to do was survive one more day. Get through one more hour. Go one more minute without breaking into sobs, because the humans will hear you.

He wouldn't stand for it. He would make sure the world's history of rejecting their most vulnerable ended with him. And if that meant looking out for the youngest member of his political cabinet by assigning him far too much paperwork, far too much to do, just to keep him out of harm's way a second longer... he'd do it. By whatever Gods were listening, he'd leap at the chance.


End file.
